Husband and I met in Spain where he , having arrived from Holland via Belgium and the Congo , had a book shop in one of those "I remember when it used to be a little fishing village " places . We stayed another twenty years and , since I spoke no Dutch , Husband's English was erratic and the world outside our front door was Spanish speaking , we developed a sort of "home language " .... basically bits of all three with French added .
Then we moved to Holland , the children left home .... the elder two to England and the youngest eventually to Amsterdam ... and he and I are the only ones now who tend to revert to EuroBabble .
This evening , my ballpoint pen having exploded , bits flying everywhere , I was hunting under the table for the spring and having no luck seeing it on the grey carpet . Husband came in and asked "What are you looking for under there ? " " The spring ... the spring from this boli "( boli , short for boligrafo , which is the Spanish for ball point ) . " The spring from your body ? "
After forty years together , I'm not taking this personally .
But the other day Elder Grandson , talking about his baby brother to Smitonius , said "He's fine but sometimes , when he cries , it's difficult to work out just what he wants . When he starts talking , I wonder what language he'll speak ? "
Let's hope it's one we're all fairly familiar with .
Chasing my tail
10 hours ago